


Snow Day

by allamaraine



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3328754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamaraine/pseuds/allamaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Voyager kids get a break from school. Mostly about fleshing out Samantha a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

Naomi has never needed an alarm clock to wake up in the mornings. _Completely unlike her father_ , Samantha thinks, as she combs out the tangles in her daughter’s long hair. Greskrendtregk cheerfully volunteered for the night shift when they were stationed on Deep Space Nine, returning every morning just in time to eat breakfast with Samantha before she started her shift. Or, brinner, as he always called it. He delighted in the various portmanteaus you could create in English, something that with impossible with most Ktarian languages. Some, like brinner, he picked up from other people. Others he created himself. When they first started dating, he occasionally took to calling her Sam-man, which eventually morphed into Salmon. At the time, this elicited a lot of eye rolling from Samantha, but now she would give almost anything to _hear_ him say it again. The few letters they could send now were barely enough.

 

“Ouch!” exclaims Naomi, rubbing the spot on her head where Samantha has inadvertently pulled her hair too hard.

 

“I’m sorry, Sweetie.” Samantha sets the comb down on the dresser and gently works the tangle out with her fingers instead.

 

“It’s okay.” Naomi turns in her seat and looks at Samantha very solemnly. “Were you thinking about Daddy again?”

 

She should be used to it by now, but Samantha is always impressed by her daughter’s perceptiveness. Perhaps it is a result of being the only child on the ship for so long. “Yes. I was thinking about how he used to call me Salmon.”

 

Naomi giggles. “Why’d he call you _that_?”

 

“Maybe because I kinda look like one?” Samantha sucks in her cheeks and bulges her eyes to make a fish face.

 

Naomi giggles again. Samantha releases her face from its goofy pose and laughs too. She turns Naomi back around, facing the mirror, so she can finish combing her hair. “Your daddy likes to joke a lot.”

 

“Like Neelix?”

 

“A little like Neelix, yes. Kind of like Harry, too. He likes puns.”

 

“Oh we learned about those! Pun: a joke exploiting the different possible meanings of a word or the fact that there are words that sound alike but have different meanings,” she recited, sounding exactly like a miniature Seven of Nine. “Seven says puns are irrelevant.”

 

“She’s right. But that’s what’s so great about them!” Samantha takes a hair tie off of the dresser and pulls Naomi’s hair into a ponytail. She sighs and brushes back Naomi’s bangs. “We need to trim your bangs soon. Or we could let them grow out? They’re long enough at this point.”

 

Naomi shrugs. She’s got more important things on her mind than what to do with her bangs. Such as food.

 

“What’s for breakfast?”

 

“Oatmeal.”

 

Naomi scrunches her face and sticks out her tongue in protest.

 

“Ah, ah! No complaining. If you’re going to be a Starfleet Captain, you have to get used to eating whatever is put in front of you. Food’s an important part of diplomacy.”

 

Naomi considers this and agrees to the oatmeal. They leave Naomi’s bedroom and while Samantha replicates the oatmeal, Naomi settles in at the table, turning on the computer to watch _Good Morning, Voyager_. Samantha suspects she and Naomi are the only ones who regularly watch the show anymore and suspects even more strongly that Neelix knows this, yet keeps putting it on for their sake.

 

She sets their bowls down on the table, along with some dried fruit and sugar from Samantha’s small personal stash that she bartered for at the last planet they visited. These additions to breakfast perk Naomi up considerably and she contentedly eats her meal, swinging her feet in the chair as they listen to Neelix announcing upcoming birthdays. It is impressive, actually, how well he keeps up with that sort of thing, especially considering how many different calendars there are to match up with the correct Stardates.

 

“Now,” says Neelix, “I have a special announcement for all our students onboard!”

 

Naomi looks at her questioningly but Samantha just shakes her head as if she is as equally confused as her daughter.

 

“School is cancelled,” Neelix continues, “for a snow day!!!”

 

“A snow day?” Naomi’s eyes are wide with excitement and she bounces in her seat. Neelix asks that all children and children-at-heart to report to the holodeck for some wintertime fun before signing off. Naomi woofs down the rest of her breakfast before trying to run out the door.

 

“I don’t think so, young lady.” Samantha stands, hands on hips, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tries to hide the smile threatening to take over her face. Many times she’s told Naomi stories of her childhood in upstate New York, her own mother’s hot chocolate and snowball fights with her brothers and ice skating with her friends. Naomi has never gotten to experience any of that, never met any of the people who would have, should have, played important roles in her life. Samantha can’t give her her uncles and cousins and grandparents and schoolmates, but she can at least give her snow. Seeing how excited Naomi is for this brings her no end of joy.

 

“But we’re going to miss everything!”

 

Samantha raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure ‘everything’ is not going to happen in the ten minutes it takes for you to get dressed.”

 

Naomi looks down at her rumpled pink pajamas. “Oh. Right!” She promptly disappears back into her room, as does Samantha. Both emerge soon after wearing matching Starfleet-issued parkas and boots, which Naomi has not yet had a chance to wear before today. Naomi’s shoelaces are untied and the parka unzipped but she ignores this in her charge out the door. Shaking her head and laughing, Samantha follows her daughter into the hallway, where she finds Naomi at the turbolift, impatiently pressing the call button over and over. The turbolift eventually gives in and opens its doors. Naomi darts inside, urging her mother to hurry up. Once the turbolift is under way, Samantha takes the opportunity while they’re waiting to tie Naomi’s boots and zip up her jacket.

 

She frowns. “You forgot gloves.”

 

Naomi triumphantly pulls a pair out of her left pocket. “A good Starfleet officer is always prepared!” She pauses. “Do you think Seven will be there?”

 

Samantha tries to imagine the former Borg drone gallivanting in the snow and finds that she cannot. Yet, there once was a child named Annika Hansen. Surely that little girl knew how to play and run and tumble, even all alone as she was out here in the Delta Quadrant. _What sort of parent would do that to their child?_ Samantha has heard such comments regarding the Hansens – never within Seven’s hearing, of course. She looks down at Naomi and wonders if she would have taken this assignment had she known she was pregnant. But how could she have known? She and Greskrendtregk were told by multiple doctors that it was virtually impossible for a Human and a Ktarian to conceive a child. Samantha’s own research confirmed this. So when she was offered the position on Voyager, the possibility of pregnancy didn’t even cross her mind when deciding whether or not to take it. As it turns out, Deep Space Nine would not be any safer for Naomi… but at least her family would be together.  

 

“She promised she would come with Mezoti and the boys.”

 

“They’re all coming? Hooray!” Naomi claps her hands together in anticipation of all the fun she was about to have with her new friends.

 

The turbolift comes to a halt. Just around the corner, the holodeck doors are already open, so they enter the gridded room. At the moment it is occupied only by Tom Paris, not a snowman or a sleigh bell in sight. Busy fiddling with the holodeck controls, Tom doesn’t notice them at first.

 

“Good morning Tom!” Samantha says to get his attention.

 

Tom looks up from the console and grins. “Hey Sam! Hey Naomi! I’m just about finished… you wanna take a look?”

 

“Yes!” Naomi exclaims before hopping over to Tom’s side while Samantha leans over the top of the console to examine Tom’s progress. As he works, he explains to both of them what he’s doing and why, allowing Naomi to try out a few things herself. The intricacies of holoprogramming are beyond Samantha – she’s much more comfortable with living beings – but Tom really does have a gift for this.

 

She asks, “Have you ever thought about writing holoprograms professionally? When we get back, I mean?”

 

Tom raises his eyebrows at that “when.” For Samantha, it’s always been “when,” never “if.” It had to be. As their years in the Delta Quadrant went by, fewer and fewer of her crewmates shared that sentiment. Whens became ifs and then the ifs became silent. With the recent success of the Pathfinder project, however, hope has been restored and she delights in hearing “when” again among her shipmates.

 

“I dunno. Maybe.” He swipes a finger across his screen and taps in a few commands before adding, “You know, it’s not ‘til we got out here that I really got a chance to try much of anything like this.”

 

“Really? I just assumed with Sandrine’s that you already knew all about holoprogramming.”

 

“Nah. I mean, I knew the basics, but Sandrine’s is relatively simple, a good way to practice getting the technical details of programming down. It gets much more complicated when you have to incorporate multiple plotlines and character development and all that sort of thing. Especially if you aren’t working with an already established story like Flotter or Captain Proton.” He gives the computer a few more commands. “There! Naomi, would you like to do the honors?”

 

Naomi nods eagerly, pressing the appropriate button on the screen with gusto. Immediately, they find themselves in a bucolic winter landscape: big fat gently-falling snowflakes, rolling hills perfect for sledding, a small iced-over pond, even a family of deer watching them from a cozy grove of evergreens. Naomi gasps and squats down to pick up a handful of snow, which she immediately tosses into the air, giggling as it falls down around her. Then she spins, arms outstretched, away from Tom and Samantha, sticking out her tongue to catch the falling snowflakes. The hood of her parka falls back and her hair is quickly coated in a fine layer of snow. After a moment, she drops her head to look back at her mother and Tom. She smiles and says, “Come on you two! What are you waiting for?”

 

Samantha laughs and runs to catch up with her daughter. Halfway there, something solid and cold smacks her in the back. She stops, slowly turns, and glares at Tom, who is whistling nonchalantly with his hands behind his back. “Ohhh you’re going to regret this, Thomas Eugene Paris!”

 

Tom waggles his eyebrows before launching another snowball at her, which she deftly avoids with a side-step. He really doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, does he? With a mischievous glint in her eye, she bends down to form her own snowball. Tom takes that as his cue to escape, but he isn’t nearly fast enough and her snowball hits him right in the shoulder. Seconds later, another snowball follows Samantha’s, hitting Tom’s other shoulder. Samantha looks back at a grinning Naomi.

 

“I got him!” Naomi cheers.

 

“‘Atta girl!” says Samantha.

 

“Don’t encourage her!” says Tom.

 

Samantha just laughs and kneels down to form more snowballs. Naomi joins her. “Better run while you can!”

 

He obeys and takes off in a zigzagging pattern before diving behind a fallen tree trunk. He frantically builds up a pile of his own snowballs before popping up to see what the Wildmans are up to. A snowball whizzes by his head.

 

“HA! You missed!” He throws one of his own. It hits Naomi, who shrieks with laughter. Their battle continues on in this way, back and forth, though Tom is clearly outmatched by the Wildmans.

 

When his final snowball is used up and he’s hit directly in the chest by one of theirs, he crumples dramatically to the ground. “Red alert! Man down, man down!”

 

Samantha tosses the last snowball in their stockpile up and down in her hand threateningly.

 

He gasps. “You wouldn’t dare!”

 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But she would!” She hands the ball off to Naomi. “Make mama proud!”

 

Naomi gleefully takes the snowball and pelts Tom with it.

 

“Hitting a man when he’s down! Now that’s just _cold_.” His smug smile is too much for such a weak pun. Samantha rolls her eyes.

 

“Oh that was terrible, Tom,” she says, “You can do better than that.”

 

He shrugs cheerfully and is about to say something else when the holodeck doors open. Seven comes in, her troop of Borg children dutifully following behind. When Samantha first suggested this snow day plan to Seven, Tom, and Neelix, Seven was extremely skeptical.

 

“C’mon Seven,” said Tom, as they all sat in the mess hall discussing the idea, “It’ll be fun!”

 

“I still fail to comprehend this human preoccupation with ‘fun.’”

 

Neelix objected to this. “It’s not just humans who like fun! Besides, don’t you want to see all the children’s smiling faces?”

 

Seven sighed and was clearly going to protest further. No doubt the word “irrelevant” would find its way into her argument. Samantha stopped the Borg with a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Seven. It would mean a lot to me. Naomi’s never really had the chance to be around other children much. She never complained, but I know she got lonely. When you rescued those kids… well, it’s made a huge difference in Naomi’s life.”

 

Seven studied Samantha with that disarmingly direct gaze of hers. “I believe they have benefited from Naomi’s presence as well. Tell me how I can be of assistance in your plan.”

 

Samantha squeezed Seven’s shoulder affectionately. Never in a million light-years would Samantha have guessed that she would one day consider a Borg drone to be part of her family, yet Seven was one of the most important people in her life now, like the younger sister she never had. One day she would need to tell Seven as much, but for today, a simple “thank you” would suffice.

 

“Seven!” Naomi exclaims. She runs over and hugs Seven, who awkwardly pats Naomi on the back. Naomi steps back and smiles shyly at Mezoti, the twins, and Icheb.

 

“Hello, Naomi Wildman.” Seven gives Samantha a short nod. “Samantha Wildman.” She raises an eyebrow at Tom sprawled out in the snow. “Mr. Paris.”

 

“Morning Seven!” he says with a small salute. He stands, wiping the snow off the back of his pants. “Morning kids!”

 

Seven turns to the children. “Children, please greet Ensign Paris and Ensign Wildman in the appropriate manner.”

 

“Good morning, Ms. Wildman. Good morning, Mr. Paris,” they said in such perfect unison as to make any school teacher envious. The Borgish effect is broken when Mezoti pipes up with, “May we play now?”

 

“Yes, you may. Have…” Seven pauses and gives the two other adults a significant look, “Fun.”

 

Naomi immediately takes Mezoti’s hand. “Let’s make a snowman!”

 

“What is a snowman?” Mezoti asks with a quizzical frown.

 

Naomi straightens up importantly. She knows _everything_ there is to know about snowmen. Theoretically, in any case. “Well,” she begins, telling Mezoti all about it as the two girls move off together, the twins trailing behind, pretending to not care while clearly hanging on to everything Naomi is saying. Samantha smiles fondly after them.

 

“Icheb!” Tom drapes a friendly arm around Icheb’s shoulders. “How about we go sledding?”

 

“Sledding?” Icheb asks doubtfully. “You are referring to the activity in which one rides a small, rectangular wood or plastic panel with little to no steering mechanisms down a steep incline in order to increase one’s adrenaline, correct?” Clearly he’s done his research before coming today. Seven must have told him ahead of time what was happening.

 

“Well yeah, but when you put it like that it sounds terrible.”

 

“No, it sounds … enjoyable. I will join you.”

 

“Good man!” Tom pats Icheb on the back. Icheb looks mildly confused by the action but he gamely goes along with it. “Sam, Seven, you want to join us?”

 

Samantha looks at Seven, who says, “No, thank you.”

 

“I’ll keep Seven company,” says Samantha, moving to stand beside the other woman.

 

“All right. We’ll be over there if you change your mind!” He points to one of the steeper hills past the stand of trees before heading off in that direction with Icheb.

 

Samantha and Seven stand quietly together, watching their families playing in the snow. Naomi and Mezoti are attempting to roll a large lump of snow into a vague ball shape for the snowman’s bottom, while the twins hunt for items to use as his arms and eyes and teeth.

 

After a long moment, Seven says, “You are not obligated to keep me company.”

 

“I know. I want to.”

 

“Then I am glad you are here. Would you walk with me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

They turn and walk slowly in silence towards the pond. Samantha used to be uncomfortable with Seven’s silences. Now, they’re almost a relief, a bubble of calm in Samantha’s otherwise hectic life as the only xenobiologist and only mother aboard Voyager. _Well_ , she thinks, glancing back at Mezoti and Naomi, then at Seven’s impassive face, _not the_ only _mother. Not anymore_.

 

Upon reaching the pond, they circle it twice before either of them says anything. To Samantha’s surprise, it is once again Seven who does so. What she says is even more surprising. “Samantha Wildman, I would like you to teach me how to ice skate.”

 

Samantha comes to an abrupt stop and turns slowly around to face Seven, who is a few paces behind her. “You want me to teach you to ice skate?” She repeats Seven’s words, unsure that she heard her correctly.

 

“That is correct.”

 

“Well of course I will, and happily, but… may I ask why?”

 

Seven shifts her feet and looks over Samantha’s shoulder when she answers her. “I would rather not discuss it.”

 

Samantha nods. Most likely this has something to do with Annika. It usually does when Seven avoids answering a direct question. “Okay.”

 

Seven's shoulders relax ever so slightly and she meets Samantha’s gaze once more. “Thank you. For not insisting.”

 

“I understand. But if you do ever want somebody to listen, you know I’m always here, right?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Good. Now, first, we need us a good pair of ice skates…”

 

 


End file.
